As the light shines through,
A window takes form.
Had it always been there?
She had not seen it,
She had touched every inch of the four walls that held her.
Was it the darkness that had muddled her senses?
She must have felt the glass panes,
Heard the wind whistle past it,
Heard birds and pebbles and branches knock against it.
It could not have been,
Yet there it was.
Bringing in the first rays of dawn,
The agony of the night was gone,
This was no metaphor.
She had scratched and clawed but there had been a window.
And now there was light,
There was escape,
There was life.

2 thoughts on “Shards

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